


Lay Me Down

by imagined_melody



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Boys In Love, Floor Sex, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1558475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagined_melody/pseuds/imagined_melody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, Ian and Mickey move into their first apartment together, and it gets, shall we say... *christened* in fairly short order. (It's just porn, you guys.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> The "A Fic a Day in the Month of May" challenge has only been on for two days, and already I'm behind! I actually didn't write all this today. This is a WIP that I've had languishing on my computer for some time now, so I reworked it and finished it for this challenge. It's new to you, but not to me. :) Starting tomorrow, I'll be trying to put some all-new stuff together!
> 
> Title is lame, because it didn't occur to me I'd have to think of a title, and that's the best I can do on short notice. :P

It wasn’t until they had finished unloading the car and were standing in the open doorway of their rented apartment, afternoon sunlight filtering through the grimy windows and the air still and quiet, that all of it truly felt real. Mickey exchanged a look with Ian; he knew the other man could see the incredulous expression on his face, and it was reflected in Ian’s features. Ian sidled up to him, tangling their fingers together and drawing him close. “This is ours,” he said in a soft voice, smiling up at Mickey. “Our place.”

Mickey made a shocked little sound of disbelief, and Ian’s smile widened as he leaned in to brush their lips together, muttering “Ours, ours, ours,” with every press of their mouths. He did this until Mickey sighed and relaxed and pushed his lips more forcefully into Ian’s, claiming him with the gesture. Ian melted into him, mouth widening into a grin, and kissed him back with equal force. 

When they pulled away, Ian looked at him with a mixture of love and seriousness. “This is ours,” he repeated, his hands firm on Mickey’s body to ground him. “Nothing that can hurt us is gonna come in here.”

Mickey’s eyes fell shut, relieved and overwhelmed, and let his forehead tilt forward to rest against Ian’s. They stood there just like that for a few minutes, and then finally Mickey broke the silence with a fervent whisper. “ _Thank you_.”

Ian quirked an eyebrow at him, puzzled. “For moving in with you?”

Mickey gave him a tight little smile. “Shit, for _everything_ ,” he said. 

Ian grinned at him. “I should be thanking you too,” he said warmly. “But I’d rather just start living with you, if that’s OK.”

Mickey’s expression turned sly. “You got any plans in mind for where you wanna start?” The drag of their hips together was suggestive, implying exactly what they might do to settle into their new home.

Ian shuddered, sighed, and then laughed a little. “We don’t have a bed yet.”

“I can think of half a dozen times right off the top of my head that hasn’t stopped us,” Mickey said in a low growl of a voice, reminding him, “and with half as much privacy as we got now.”

In an instant Ian had him around the waist, hoisting him up until Mickey had to wrap his legs around Ian’s hips so he wouldn’t fall. He intended to carry him this way over to the wall, where he could press him to a hard surface and ravish him– but in their haste they overbalanced. Ian stumbled backward rapidly, and as he realized what was happening, Mickey started to scramble down, but the sudden awkward redistribution of their weight only made it worse. Mickey fell hard onto his back on the floor, the force of the impact nearly knocking the wind out of him, compounded by the heaviness of Ian falling on top of him. They lay there for a second, gasping and trying to laugh through the shortness of breath. Finally Ian chuckled and managed to say, “Well, down here’s good too.”

Mickey groaned. “Ow, fuck. Gonna have a bruise on my ass by tomorrow from that fall.”

Ian snaked his hands around and dug his fingers hard, almost viciously, into the soft skin of his ass. “Want another one?” he said in a sexy, throaty voice, and Mickey’s hips jerked up in response. Ian ground them back down into the floor, the gesture possessive and dominant. Mickey moaned loudly, and his heart thrilled at the fact that he did not have to censor himself and be any quieter than he wanted to be.

“Fuck you,” Mickey bit out on a laugh, tussling with him until he had just barely managed to get on top, pinning the redheaded boy to the floor.

But Ian only gave him that ground for a moment. He flipped them over with a sudden movement, maneuvering them so that Mickey was the one on his back, and said low into his ear, “Nah, think I’ll fuck you instead. I’d rather fuck you into this floor until you can’t get up again.” The strained whining sound Mickey made in response, his eyes dilated to a pure darkness, was consent enough and then some. In seconds Ian’s hands were scrambling at his pants, trying to get the zip down and the fabric pulled off his lover’s hips in one smooth motion. 

He was halfway through dragging them down when Mickey said breathlessly, “Ian, hang on. Where’s the lube?”

Ian paused, trying to think; the silliness of the situation made him laugh. “Fuck, um, in the bathroom stuff, I think?” He rocked against Mickey, kissing him hungrily. “You wanna look for it, or do something different?”

Mickey’s chest was still heaving with arousal. “I want you to get the fuck in me,” he said roughly. He kicked him lightly in the shin. “Go look in the boxes over there. I’ll get my pants off.”

The offer was good enough that he couldn’t find it within him to resist. Hastily Ian climbed off and scrambled over to the box containing their miscellaneous bathroom items, digging through it for the bottle of lube. He growled in frustration when it was not immediately accessible, but shortly afterward his hand wrapped around it, and the sound turned satisfied. He turned back around to return to Mickey and stopped, stunned, for a second.

Mickey had not just taken off his pants; he had removed every stitch of his clothing, draping them on the floor as a makeshift blanket, and was lying completely naked on the floor of the living room in their new house. The sight slammed into him, making his mouth go dry and his heart skip a beat. Mickey was smirking at Ian expectantly, eyebrow raised as if to challenge him. His cock strained up against his stomach, fully erect despite the fact that he was not– and had not been– touching himself. Ian needed no further incentive to come back to him. He tossed the lube over to the man lying prostrate on the floor, and then walked back over himself, shedding items of clothing as he went.

When he draped himself over Mickey again, both of them naked as the day they were born, the rubbing of their bare skin was delicious, tantalizing in a way that it rarely was. Mickey’s head fell back on the floor, exposing the long line of his neck; the gesture always begged Ian to mark him, and he got derailed for a while sucking a dark spot into the skin of his collarbone. Mickey flailed his hands a little and let him mouth at his neck until the sensitive skin ached with the bite of his teeth. Then Ian heard the telltale whimper that meant he wanted to press on. While soothing the residual soreness with his tongue, Ian trailed one gentle finger across the crease of Mickey’s ass, feeling him flutter in anticipation before withdrawing to properly coat his finger and press inside.

Mickey could not hold still throughout the preparation; he was squirming and restless, bucking into the press of Ian’s fingers and shifting constantly to change the angle at which he was pushing. Ian laughed and growled a little and curled fingers around his partner’s hip to hold him down to the ground, but Mickey was stronger than he looked; while the restraint made him shudder and his arousal spike, it did not have the effect of actually stopping his fidgeting. Finally Ian shifted off of him to flip him over from his back to a hands-and-knees position; that way Mickey would have more leverage to thrust back against him if he wanted to. Mickey made an obscenely pleased sound and bore down on the three fingers Ian returned to his ass, seeking greater and greater pleasure until he shook and said, “God damn it, Gallagher, get on with it already. Quit taking so fuckin’ long.”

Ian wasted no time. Within seconds– barely long enough for Mickey to miss the sensation of being penetrated– he had withdrawn his fingers and placed the tip of his cock at Mickey’s entrance, just dragging it there for a second and feeling Mickey literally try to open up around it. Finally he pressed himself there with more force, fingers spreading Mickey apart at the same time, and with remarkable ease he was able to push himself inside.

Despite the wildness coursing through their veins, they paused to catch their breath when Ian was fully inside. Ian’s front was flush against Mickey’s back, close in all the ways they could possibly be. Mickey was trembling and making small murmured sounds of encouragement beneath him, and the spread-out clothes were mussed on the floor; it occurred to Ian that Mickey would probably have some impressive rug burn by tomorrow. He kissed Mickey’s sweaty skin, anchoring him there and calming the man’s jangling, over-sensitized nerve endings, until he heard a more measured whoosh of breath and felt the telltale twitch of hips that said he was ready.

The first thrust had them both groaning, and Ian almost had to pause again to keep himself under control. “You feel _good_ ,” he groaned into Mickey’s shoulder, and Mickey let out a strangled sound and said, “God, so do you.” Encouraged, Ian snapped his hips forward again, his heart speeding up at the way Mickey sagged onto his elbows on the makeshift mat of clothing, going semi-pliant and succumbing to the pleasure radiating through him in waves. 

Ian’s hips pushed forward harder, faster, moans tumbling from his mouth involuntarily. There was a thrill in this beyond the vigorousness of the sex itself; for the first time in their lives, the two of them had a place of their own, somewhere to fill with their love for one another and their wishes for a life that contained more happiness than struggle. At first they– or Mickey, at any rate– had hardly dared to dream that this could be a reality; even later, when it had been more realistic, they had still privately doubted that they would be allowed to have such a thing. If they didn’t ruin it, which both of them frequently feared they might, then it was almost a sure thing that the world itself would stand in the way. But now they were here, making a place for themselves in the world. Making a home.

But such sentimental thoughts were not at the forefront of either of their minds, at the moment. The frantic movement of Mickey’s hips against Ian’s drew him back to the fact that they were on the floor, _fucking_ , and he focused singlemindedly on bringing Mickey as much pleasure as possible. He aimed deliberately for Mickey’s prostate, years of practice making his angle easy to find, and hammered against it until he was a sweaty mess, reaching down to pull his lover’s balls back from his body when it seemed he was about to come. When Mickey breathed out shakily, “Ian– Ian, you’re either gonna have to let me come or give me a second,” Ian was honestly unsure which of those two options he wanted to do. He settled for stilling his movements, continuing to hold onto Mickey for a few seconds to make sure he wouldn’t come immediately after letting go, and then paused simply to hold Mickey, kissing his neck gently and murmuring tenderness into his skin while he came down from the height he had reached.

Once they resumed their movements, he had very little to do before Mickey was on the edge again, making small high-pitched sounds and tilting his hips up to get the perfect leverage. This time, Ian did nothing to prevent his orgasm. He curled his deft fingers around Mickey’s erection, satisfaction curling into his nerves as the action made the man keen loudly, and worked him quickly until he felt him come apart under his hand. The jerking of his lover’s body and the slick feeling of release trickling onto his hand was just the stimulation Ian needed; he felt heat wash over him, and came hard into Mickey, feeling pulse after pulse empty into him before he finally calmed and stilled.

Sure enough, when he slipped out and Mickey turned over to face Ian, he had angry red marks all over his knees. Ian ran a gentle finger over one such scrape, and Mickey jerked away at the soreness and muttered, “Ey, get off, asshole.” Ian gave him an apologetic look and leaned down to affectionately kiss the aggravated skin. Mickey sighed– out of exasperation or fondness, Ian couldn’t be sure– and tangled fingers in his hair; encouraged, Ian let his tongue dart out to lick at the frayed red marks. Mickey watched him with lidded eyes. “That is so fuckin’ unsanitary,” he muttered, but the comment only made Ian chuckle and continue to soothe the marks until Mickey sighed again and leaned back, relaxing into it. 

“If you’re worried about sanitary, maybe I shouldn’t put my tongue in your ass anymore either,” Ian said into his knee, and Mickey laughed aloud, surprised at his directness.

“Yeah, you’re not gonna hear me complaining about you doing that,” he agreed. They lay curled up together on the floor for a minute or two, staring up at the ceiling and each thinking privately about the new stage of their lives that they were about to enter. 

It was Ian who broke the silence. “I am gonna stay with you, you know.”

Mickey turned his head to face him, running soft fingers over his cheek in a tender movement. “You damn fucking better,” was all he said in response.

Later on, when things got difficult and the world seemed against them, Ian would remember those words spoken in hushed tones on the floor of their living room, whispered promises of freedom and security beyond what he’d ever known. He would remember all the potential that lay ahead of them that day, and marvel that they’d actually been able to do this, to take their rough beginnings and fashion a mutual life of their own out of the haphazard foundations they had provided. 

True to Ian’s earlier statement, they did not yet have a bed; neither of their childhood beds had been designed for two, and they wanted to furnish their house with something suited for both of them. So they made a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor of their new bedroom and climbed into it together, tangled just as much in each other as in the sheets. Tired though they were, it took both of them a while to get to sleep. For an undetermined length of time they just lay there, whispering to one another– the words were not important, full of love and promises amidst normal points of conversation, but the intimacy of them was potent. By the time Mickey started dozing off, he felt safer than he’d felt in ages, one half of a bond strong enough to protect them both from harm. His breath must have sped up a little at the realization of his own security, and Ian, perceptive as ever, noticed. His fingers curled a little closer around Mickey’s skin, and his gentle voice whispered, “I’ve got you. Go to sleep.”

He was halfway there before all of the words had finished leaving Ian’s mouth.


End file.
